It took Bobbi a bit longer to settle in, pausing by her seat with her package held against her chest to nudge the leg of the chair with her toe. The tables she could understand being bolted down, and even then it was as if they had sealed them where they landed, slightly askew. The chairs, though, made the arrangement curious. Instead of squeezing herself into the space, Bobbi backed away from the table and sat in the steel chair set away from it, in the corner of the room, where she could maneuver. The guy in charge was pretty much unreadable and looked like he could be any janitor in the country, or mail man, or bus driver, just part of the scenery, making her gaze skip over his face and her focus return to the weird tables. They were unnerving.
For three seconds she managed to shift her attention to the questionnaire, then the kid interrupted and she tried to offer him a friendly smile. He looked skittish. Maybe it was the tables. Maybe she should have sat with him. This survey was really damn long for a precursor. Bobbi had written lab reports shorter than this.